


Finding your place

by ChasingAnna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Hufflepuff Ron Weasley, Quidditch, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Short, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingAnna/pseuds/ChasingAnna
Summary: An alternate Sorting causes some tension between Ron and Harry (Not bashing). Blaise gets shown up by Hermione, and Neville shows some common sense. Harry gets his first exposure to Quidditch
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Terence Higgs & Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75
Collections: The Veil Cycle





	Finding your place

**Author's Note:**

> This is from an unpublished WIP in which none of the trio end up in the same house. Hermione is in Ravenclaw, Ron is Hufflepuff, and Harry is Slytherin. Neville stays in Gryffindor and is tight with the group. A quick note about classes. I've made ALL classes in first year shared with another house to help expose Harry to the whole school. These scenes will likely not be one after another in the final version. Right now the pacing for the conflict to resolution feels a little rushed.

## The Sorting Hat

A young Harry potter stood in line in the great hall, watching his soon to be classmates get sorted into their respective houses. The past several weeks had been an insane whirlwind of upheaval. He had learned he was a wizard, learned wizards exist, learned schools existed to train wizards, and learned he would be attending one such school.

“Granger, Hermione”

“Ravenclaw!”

“Potter, Harry”

He walked up to the stool, legs shaking, and took a seat, looking out at the sea of students. The crowd disappeared as the Sorting Hat fell over his eyes. A small voice whispered in his ear.

“Where to put you. You’re clever enough for Ravenclaw. Loyal too, you could be Hufflepuff with a little better work ethic. Brave, my yes, you are brave. And such a desire to prove yourself. You could be great you know. Slytherin could help you on your way to greatness.”

_Not Slytherin, not Slytherin_

“No? are you sure about that? You could be powerful there. You’ll need strength in the years to come. They could help prove your place; prove your worth.”

Harry paused, thinking about the abuse he had suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. Could Slytherin help stop that? Prevent it in the future? But then there were Ron’s words in the train, every evil wizard had come out of Slytherin.

“Is that so? Are you sure about that? Every house has produced its bad apples, and every house has its heroes. Slytherin won’t make you anything you’re not, and another house won’t either.”

The seconds dragged on. Harry was acutely aware of the long silence in the hall around him. He had to make a decision.

_OK_

“SLYTHERIN!”

Harry got up, still apprehensive about his new house, but it was too late to question it now. As he walked over towards the cheering table he couldn’t help but notice Malfoy was giving only a half-hearted clap. Harry sat at the far end of the table next to a small boy giving a much more enthusiastic cheer.

“Terence Higgs!” the boy announced, thrusting out a hand. “Seeker for Slytherin. You can call me Terry”

“Seeker?” Harry repeated quizzically.

“Yeah, for the quidditch team. What, were you raised by muggles?”

Harry looked sheepishly at the boy, who at last caught on and began to backpedal

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I mean, not many muggle-borns end up in Slytherin…” Terry seemed to become even more flustered as he continued, “Not that you’re muggle-born obviously. I mean, everyone knows the Potters.” He turned white suddenly, realizing he had just accidentally brought up Harry’s murdered parents.

“I’m really sorry, what do you say we start over?”

“Um, sure,“ Harry replied, mostly just wanting the conversation to be over.

“I’m Terry, this is Miles Bletchley, Cassius Warrington, and Adrian Pucey. They’re on the team too”

“I’ll be on the team next year,” drawled Malfoy a few seats away, “My father has had me in flying lessons for years.”

“Er, right. I’ll see you at tryouts next year I suppose,” said Terry before continuing.

He motioned over to two girls, indistinguishable from one another.

“The twins there are Flora and Hestia Carrow, good luck telling which witch is which.”

The twins chuckled politely at the joke, but it was quite obviously one they had heard a few too many times.

They tucked in to the feast, chatting idly about the coming year, the castle, and the thousands of questions swirling in Harry’s head. Malfoy attempted to awkwardly cut in a few more times, but eventually gave up and began chatting with Crabbe and Goyle leaving Harry and the others to socialize. Harry couldn’t help but notice Draco kept shooting dirty looks in his direction, as if blaming him for the other students’ failure to be impressed by his pedigree.

As the feast wrapped up, the prefects of the houses began to gather their charges to show them to the common rooms. A gaggle of Hufflepuffs walked by and Harry bean to catch snippets of conversation.

“I never thought he would have ended up in the Slytherin.”

“The scar looks more like a snake to me.”

“Ron, didn’t you sit with him on the train? What’s he like?”

“He was real quiet, kinda kept to himself,” said Ron.

“I bet he was plotting something. Slytherins are always up to something.”

“Um, maybe,” said Ron, “I mean, my brothers always say, ‘never trust a Slytherin,’ so I don’t know.”

Harry got to his feet, “What’s that supposed to mean?” he shouted.

Ron turned to look at him, a look of embarrassment flashing across his face.

“It’s, um… It’s nothing against you mate. I’m just, you know, worried about you being in with all them.”

A few of Ron’s fellow Hufflepuffs slunk away, embarrassed at being overheard, but more joined the group, wanting to see the brewing conflict.

“So what? You think your house defines you? I wonder what they’d think if they heard you describe Hufflepuff on the train.”

Ron grew red at this, his own temper rising as his housemates shot curious and disapproving looks towards him at this news.

“Hey, I said I’d like to be with my brothers in Gryffindor, but at least I’m not Slytherin. I’d rather be a squib than a snake!”

Harry raised a fist, about to dive at Ron and have a go at him, when strong arms wrapped around him and hauled him backward.

“Not here, not now,” Terry whispered in his ear.

Flanked by the entire Slytherin Quidditch team, Harry was shuffled off to the dungeons and the entrance to the common room.

“You’ve got to keep your temper under control. The whole school is just about against us already what with you-know-who,” said Terry.

Draco chimed in, “Well, I don’t think you should have let Weasley off so easy. If my father…”

“Shut the help up about your father, no one cares,” snapped Terry.

Malfoy slunk off to rejoin his lackeys.

“Seriously though, we’ve got a target on our backs. Getting in a fistfight day one is going to screw us over.”

“Sorry,” muttered Harry.

“No worries, best get used to people talking though. It’s not going to stop any time soon.”

## First Week of Classes

He was right it turned out. Everywhere he went, there were whispers about how Voldemort must have damaged him some way to have him end up in Slytherin. Classes were the worst, as it forced him to be in close proximity to other houses where he could hear the whispering without being able to speak up to defend himself.

They paired with Ravenclaw for charms and were working in groups of three on levitating a feather. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle predictably formed one group, leaving Harry and Blaise to partner with a Ravenclaw named Hermione.

“She’s muggle-born,” whispered Blaise, “why does it have to be a muggle-born.”

They sat down to practice.

“Wingarium Leviosa,” said Blaise, causing his feather to rise a few inches in the air.

Harry looked down at his own feather, which had barely wiggled.

“Having to spend all that time with muggles is bound to put you a little behind,” said Blaise, “but no worries, you’ll get the hang of it. You’ve got some proper wizard blood in you,” he added, glancing over at Hermione.

“Wingarium Leviosa.” Hermione’s feather soared into the air and followed her wand in slow figure 8s above them. “Yes, I’m sure your ‘proper wizard blood’ will kick in any time. Until then, you can practice with me in the library if you’d like.”

Harry found Hermione bossy, infuriating, but she seemed mercifully uninterested in Harry’s house assignment and was one of the few people who had never asked to see his scar, so on balance he figured she was alright. 

Potions with Gryffindor were no better. They were working in pairs, Draco with Crabbe, Blaise with Goyle, and Harry with a fat kid named Neville. It was hard to say who had the more useless partner. While Crabbe and Goyle seemed content to let Draco and Blaise do all the work, Neville was all too willing to try his hardest and kept screwing up the instructions.

“You know,” Neville began, “it seems rather silly to just tell us not to go in a hallway. They should know students will try and check it out.”

“Well, should they just let students stumble upon it by accident?”

“No, of course not, but there are loads of more sensible ways. They could summon a temporary stone wall, or an age barrier so no students can get through. Dumbledore could even make the whole hallway invisible and unplottable with a Fidelius charm.”

Harry stopped, dumbstruck. Once Neville said it, it seemed obvious that any of those courses of action would work perfectly. Harry stared at Neville, suddenly and unexpectedly impressed by the boy. Then Neville added lacefly wings instead of wartmoss causing their potion to congeal into a solid block in the cauldron and the effect was ruined.

## The Library

Harry made his way to the library, as much to escape from the press of questions and scar seeking stares as to study. He sat down at a long table near the back and pulled out his charms book. He stared at it blankly for a few minutes until he heard a chair scrape the floor across from him. He looked up to see Ron’s red hair was now topping a red face.

“Yes?” Harry asked coolly, still bitter about Ron’s earlier remarks.

“Well…” he began, avoiding Harry’s gaze, “I wanted to apologize for earlier. I shouldn’t have blamed you for what house you were sorted into. It’s no excuse, but I was mostly disappointed I didn’t get put in Gryffindor and was taking it out on you. After all, it’s not like you chose which house you’d be put in.”

Now it’s was Harry’s turn to look away. As he was trying to think of a way to change the subject, Hermione plopped into a chair next to him.

“Oooh, you came to practice levitation charms? I’ve been working on those. I can even get a book to lift now, want to see?”

Harry could just about kiss the little know-it-all. The trio spent the next hour taking turns practicing lifting a feather as Hermione steadily wore down their goodwill with a stream of critiques on wand grip, pronunciation, and just about everything else.

Flying lessons came next, and poor Neville seemed quite as useless at that as everything else. To make matters worse, Draco stole his rememberal and just when Harry managed to retrieve it, Snape strode up in his usual foul mood.

“Well Potter, showing off again?” Snape sneered.

“No sir, I was just…”

“I have no interest in your excuses. You will be in detention until further notice.”

“But Draco…”

“Draco is not your concern.”

Draco sniggered to Crabbe and Goyle. Harry burned with anger. How could he be so unfair? He had seen Draco flying too, yet only he was getting punished?

Harry could hardly concentrate on flying, though thankfully it was effortless enough he didn’t really need to. He half-listened to the instructions yelled by Professor Mcgonnagal as he stewed over his coming detentions, at least until he noticed Neville who had managed to slip sideways and was hanging precariously by one leg and an elbow as his broom drifted towards a tree.

Harry swooped over and helped him clamber back onto his broom.

“Thanks Harry. Thanks for everything.”

Harry smiled back at him. Even if he was in trouble, at least he knew he had done the right thing. That had to count for something.

“No problem. Try to relax a bit more. And keep your body low, it will help with your balance. Good. Don’t be afraid to let your feet hang a bit. No, no, still hold on with your thighs.”

Harry did his best to help him, but it was little use. Neville was terrified of flying and was looking rather green when they were finally called back to the ground.

That night, when Harry went down to Snape’s office for his first detention, he found Marcus Flint waiting outside the door.

“What did you do?” Harry asked.

“Nothing, Professor Snape said he had something to discuss before practice,” Marcus replied.

The door opened and Snape ushered them in.

“Mr. Flynt, young Potter here thinks he can fly. I would like you to take him down to Quidditch practice and dispel him of that notion. Introduce him to the game properly.”

“Yes, professor.”

As they walked towards the pitch, Marcus whispered to him, “What did you do to get on his bad side?”

“No idea. I don’t think he liked me from the first moment he laid eyes on me.”

“Weird. Well, sorry for this, but you’re going to be flying solo until the snitch is caught. No beaters to protect you.”

“I’m sorry, what’s a snitch?”

After a quick explainer, Harry mounted his broom and took off, peering around for the snitch. He swooped behind the goalposts, skittered along the field, rose to a better vantage, but it seemed impossible to find a magical flying ball in a whole stadium.

Really, it wasn’t much of a punishment, making him fly. Had Snape simply asked him to practice on his own, he would have gladly done so. It was actually kind of relaxing.

_Wham!_

Something hit him hard in the back, knocking him off balance. He clung tight to the broom, wheezing through a haze of pain.

“Eyes open, rookie. Watch the bludgers,” Marcus called.

“I thought the beaters were supposed to protect me,” Harry called back.

“They protect the seeker, that’s Terry.”

Harry resumed circling the pitch, trying to find the snitch while staying aware of the other balls hurling around the pitch and sneaking occasional jealous looks at the carefree Terry, who was free to focus on the task as the beaters shepherded the bludgers away from him.

Harry fell into a rhythm, dodge, scan, dodge, scan, hoping to find the snitch and get back inside.

Then, he caught sight of a glint of gold hovering low to the ground. He dove, speeding towards his prize. Terry saw him, but was at the other end of the field, too far to have any hope of getting there first.

_Wham_

A bludger hit his leg, spinning him around. A beater smiled down at him, then gave Terry a thumbs up.

The snitch was gone again.

There was no way he was going to win alone against the whole team. They knew it and they wanted him to know it too. It was punishment after all, and worst of all they were using something he loved to punish him.

He resumed circling and dodging, resentful of Snape, of the team, of the whole universe. If only he had a team to work with, someone to punish them back, or at least distract them enough to get enough peace to catch that damn snitch.

An idea came to him. He smiled for a moment. It might just work.

He dove at nothing, picking up speed then pulled up to avoid the bludgers sent after him. He tracked his eyes along the ground, as if following the progress of the snitch, Terry tried to follow his gaze, searching for the golden ball. Harry watched the beaters setting up to send the bludgers back at him. He shot forward, not quite towards Terry, eyes fixed on an imaginary snitch. He heard a whack behind him as a bludger was sent towards him.

 _Wait, wait,_ he told himself. He had to be patient, let bludger close on him.

 _Now!_ Harry swerved left, braking hard, and the bludger flew past him, and changed course to aim for Terry. Terry saw it, and tried to dodge, but it was too close now. It clipped his shoulder, knocking him sideways.

“What the hell, Miles, same team!” he called out to the beater.

Harry began sticking close to Terry, jerking wildly on occasion as if about to dive for the snitch. Keeping them on their toes, daring them to send a bludger at him and risk him luring it after Terry. The beaters became hesitant. Terry was sweating now, on edge having Harry so close.

He wouldn’t be able to win, but he could certainly make things hard on them. He expanded on his antics, shooting directly at a chaser, forcing him to swerve out of the way, then back to Terry, then a steep dive. The keeper got so caught up in watching him that he didn’t noting Adrian closing on him and allowed a goal.

For the next hour and a half, he was an agent of chaos. Disrupting everything he could, causing the whole team hell, and generally being a nuisance. Twice more he caught sight of the snitch, but never managed to snag it. That went to Terry in the end, but Harry felt he had at least put up a fight.

As he limped back up towards the castle, Terry caught up with him.

“Good flying out there. You kept us on our toes.”

“Yeah, well I wasn’t going to let you go after me without doing something,” said Harry, bitterness rising in his voice.

“Wait, you don’t get what’s happening?”

“Yeah, Snape wanted to ruin flying for me. It didn’t work.”

“No you idiot. He’s looking to get you on the team next year.”

“Funny way of doing that, trying to get me killed out there.”

“Well, first years aren’t allowed on the team proper, so this was the only way he could get you out here. He wanted us to see what you could do. And I gotta say, we’re all impressed. Stay in trouble if you can, having you there is good training.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments welcome as always. Sorry for any remaining typos. I'm sure I missed some during my own read through and I'm still looking for a reliable proofreader/editor.


End file.
